Performing Ablutions
Making writing an invitation
I’ve been mired in a peculiar writing struggle the last year or two.
I generally wake up at 4:30 or 5, and I used to start writing right away. I’d write for a couple of hours in the mysterious solitude of the darkness of my house, and I loved being bathed in the dreamy quiet of hours I had all to myself (until my dog Buster joined me).
But life, as we know, is an invasive thing. I began to nip away at my writing time to answer emails, to take care of the “business of being a writer,” to take care of the “business of life,” and soon enough, I was barely writing at all—despite all of the advice I give others … to write!
I made vows. I blocked off time. Still, somehow the siren calling me was an ever-growing array of other things, but not my writing. I wondered if I should, in fact, write an essay titled, “Other Things.”
During Memoir Nation’s JanYourStory, I started to think deeply about how to not only block off time, but how to make writing time more of an invitation. Make it less about the grind of work and more about the meandering contours of creativity.
I decided that I needed a writing ritual. Here is what I’ve been practicing. Each night, I make sure to put my journal, a candle, and some incense next to my writing area (an old armchair). After I make my cup of coffee, I light the candle, light the incense, and I sit and do some deep breathing exercises to essentially clear my mind, to let my thoughts wend and wonder about.
“I have long believed that journaling allows you to alchemize isolation into creative solitude.”
Then, in the glow of the candle and the wafts of the incense, I write in my journal. After a lifetime of passionately writing in my journal, I tapered off years ago (perhaps because of life’s invasiveness?), and I even began to wonder what the purpose of journaling was, so I’m trying to reimagine my journal writing.
When I’m ready, I open my memoir doc, and I start writing. I try to write for at least 30 minutes. I generally find that 30 minutes turns into an hour, though. What’s most important is that I create momentum: not just in the present, but for the next day. It doesn’t matter if I only write a sentence or a paragraph.
I’m a bit obsessed with these two aspects of the creative life:
How to make writing an invitation
How to create momentum
Years ago, I wanted to write a book of what I called “creative meditations” for writers to ponder. I started writing them with the idea that I’d write a book of 365 creative meditations—short creative explorations—to start each day.
I offer this creative meditation on ablutions since ablutions carry a ritualistic invitation, a cleansing before receiving the divine (which in my case is the prayer of words and stories).
Creative Meditation: Ablutions
An ablution, a rite of cleansing, prepares your mind to receive. When you take an ablution, you shed modesty. You open yourself. You wash away the dirt and clutter of your mind, and you pause to invite in the sacred mysteries of the world. The intent is purification, atonement, but ablutions are primarily an act of dedication.
Ablutions are present in almost all religions. Many ancient churches were built with a large fountain in the courtyard so people could wash away sins before worshipping a deity. In Japanese Buddhism, a basin called a tsukubai is provided at temples for ablutions. Hindus bathe in rivers that are considered holy. Muslims practice wudu, a washing of the body meant to soothe fury, calm the spirit, and form a spiritual shield against invisible dangers.
How can you take ablutions before you write, to open yourself up, to dedicate yourself, to ward away invisible dangers? Maybe it’s as simple as washing your face or breathing in lavender. Maybe it’s lighting a candle, closing your eyes and taking several deep breaths to clear your mind.
Whether you’re religious or not, your creativity holds powers akin to holiness. Practice cleansing yourself in preparation to enter the sacred spaces of your imagination.
For more on journaling, please read my piece, Journaling As Vessel of Being.
Please help me publish this newsletter?
How do you make writing into an invitation?
Because some quotes
“I have long believed that journaling allows you to alchemize isolation into creative solitude.”
“It’s where I go to show up for myself, to take a breath in this chaotic world and to write my way back to myself.”
“Journaling became the place that I was able to find a sense of narrative control at a time when I had to cede so much control to others.”
—Suleika Jaouad
Upcoming book tour dates
February 8: Golden Era Lounge, Nevada City, CA … TONIGHT!
February 15: San Francisco Writers Conference
February 19: Book Soup, Los Angeles, CA
February 20: Writer’s Block, Las Vegas, NV
February 22: Stranger than Fiction, Specs, San Francisco
February 26: San Francisco Public Library
Because a photo
I’m forever dreaming of road trips. This is a photo from a past road trip on Highway 66.
Write a story to this photo prompt.
Your posts have a funny way of being exactly what I need when they arrive in my inbox. I've also been struggling with making writing not only a priority, but a sacred piece of my day. After tending the animals, after the coffee is brewed, I've been playing focus frequency music and breathing with that until my head feels less boggy and more open. This morning I smudged my writing room with rosemary and mugwort, to invite focus and dreaming. I think the smudging will become a regular part of my writing ritual. Hope all is well in your world. Peace...
Thank you for this! I like to pick out a random Tarot card before a writing session. Always puts me in an interesting place.